


Steel-Set Stars

by jaqhad (kyrilu)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/jaqhad
Summary: When Rey returns to the base on Ajan Kloss, she brings with her the comatose body of Kylo Ren – no, Ben Solo.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Steel-Set Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Not TROS novelization compliant with Zorii's crew. Damn. Not TROS VD compliant either re: Ajan Kloss descriptions... etc.

When Rey returns to the base on Ajan Kloss, she brings with her the comatose body of Kylo Ren – no, Ben Solo.

Rey steps out of the ship, carrying him in her arms, like he once did to her on Takodana. He’s long and lanky, but with the assistance of the Force, she’s got the strength to lug him toward the medbay, while onlooking Resistance members fall silent and part like an orbiting asteroid belt to let her pass.

“Is that--?” Finn says.

“Long, long story,” she says, with a deep exhale. “Do we have any bacta tanks available?”

“Some,” he says, and he shrugs, as if to say, _well, if we’re doing this_ , and he hurries to her side and helps her drag him over.

Once Kylo Ren – Ben – Force, this is confusing – is hooked up and submerged in the tank, Rey stands back and watches him. His dark hair rises above his head in the fluid, and his chest rises and falls in a shallow rhythm.

“What happened?” Finn asks.

“He helped me defeat Palpatine,” Rey says, and she sees the darkness of Exegol behind her eyes, and it makes her feel sick, the _wrongness_ of it all. “He healed me when I—”

“When you died.”

Rey turns, surprised.

“I felt it,” Finn confesses. “Rey, I think I can feel it, feel the Force. It’s like a little voice in the back of my head, telling me important things, telling me when something’s wrong.”

Rey takes a second to process the news, and then exclaims, “That’s incredible, Finn!” She reaches out, squeezes his shoulder, and she’s thrilled, knowing that the Force has brought them together.

Force user or not, Finn will always be her friend, but there’s something satisfying about them having this in common, too. One less little thing to not feel lonely about.

“Hey,” Finn says, his voice serious. “I know you came back, but it scared me. It’s freaky--terrifying."

“It’s like all the stars and suns in the galaxies have gone out,” Rey says. “Like everything bright in the universe has vanished.”

She’s felt it. Han. Luke. Leia. And, Ben, for one planet-shaking moment, but upon breathing, upon opening her eyes and realizing what he’d done and what he was trying to sacrifice, she had touched his face and pushed some of the Force energy back to him.

It was barely enough to keep him in his current comatose state. But here he is, here they are, still alive.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Rey says to Finn, her mouth a wry curve. “I’ll try not to die next time.”

“Please,” Finn says. “Be careful. Don’t try to do everything alone, Rey.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, glancing at the bacta tank. “I guess you weren’t.”

Rey asks, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier that you were Force sensitive?”

Finn shrugs. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I kept putting it off. You’ve always been busy with Jedi stuff, and I thought – well, it’d be weird to interrupt and declare I’ve got Force abilities, too. It’s not like I can make things float or do mind tricks like you.”

“That’s what training is for.”

“You’re a kickass Jedi, Rey. There’s no way I could use my mind instinct skills and match your, entire, well, whatever.” He gestures to her from head to toe.

“Finn,” Rey says, “don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can learn. If you’re Force sensitive, you’ve got the knack.”

Finn looks reassured, though there’s still some doubt in his eyes; he puts his hand on top of her hand on his shoulder. Her hand is still dusty, bloodied, from her ordeal on Exegol, and he smiles and says, “All right. You can start showing me the ropes later. But right now, you need to get into a bacta tank yourself, too.”

Rey frowns. “It’s not that bad. I've mostly healed."

“You _died._ Get in a tank so I can stop worrying.”

“Fine, all right, I will!”

* * *

Floating in the bacta tank, she closes her eyes. The Force, which was singing so strongly within her earlier, is a stable hum. She feels her heart fall in sync to the beat of it – _with me, with me, with me_ – and she breathes it in for maybe the first time in her life.

Peace, or the semblance of it, anyway.

It’s strange to remember she was once a child in a vast desert, looking up at the open sky, aware, even then, that the universe is wider than she could ever imagine.

On Jakku, there was a storyteller. He wandered around the villages with caged creatures on his back, and he shared legends – myths – folklore. At night, Rey had snuck away from Unkar Plutt’s dwelling to listen as he wove intricate plots.

Rey had dreamed of those stories. Now, she feels the stories of everything, the galaxy reverberating through her.

She had told Finn that death felt like stars dying, suns falling.

Life feels like cosmic filaments that bind together the galaxy. Overlapping strands, tangled webs that bind you to people and places and histories.

 _Rey Palpatine_ , she thinks, and she shudders.

* * *

When she wakes, stepping out of the now-drained bacta tank, she finds that she feels energized, refreshed.

One of the med droids have left out a fresh change of clothes for her, and gratefully, Rey dresses, puts her hair up, and clips the two lightsabers to her belt.

Ben Solo is still unconscious in the bacta tank.

She lingers by, and she puts her palm against the tank. He’s not dead, but his presence is static, fixed, not pushing back at her like he used to.

Closing her eyes, Rey summons healing energy through the Force. She wills it to pass through the transparisteel, through the bacta, and into Ben. Just a little thread of life.

The static presence stirs, like a kindled spark, and for a moment, she feels him again.

_Rey…_

Then it sputters out, the flame gone, and Rey withdraws her hand from the tank.

* * *

After a quick breakfast at the base cantina, Rey meets Finn and Poe in Poe’s quarters.

Poe has moved into Leia’s quarters, and it looks near empty, walls stripped of battleplans and texts. Poe’s sitting at a round table, flipping through a datapad, and he greets Rey and Finn with a tired smile.

“Glad to have you back,” he says to Rey. “Although I’m not sure if I should say the same about, uh, our guest.”

“He won’t be awake anytime soon,” Rey says. “He was practically dead when I dragged him off Exegol. I think I have to keep providing him with Force energy, until he’s strong enough to wake up.”

“Wait,” Finn says, “isn’t that dangerous? I thought you said he almost died when he revived you.”

“Not if I heal him, little by little every day,” Rey says.

“Sounds like charging a droid or something,” Finn says, wrinkling his nose.

“Well,” Poe says, with a sigh, putting down his datapad, “I’m glad we’re doing the humane thing, but not everyone is happy about him being here.”

Rey stills. Right.

Poe continues, “I’ve been telling everyone that Kylo Ren’s in the Resistance’s custody now, and he’ll eventually stand trial once we manage to get some sort of fair allied judicial system in place. Look, Rey, Finn told me that Ren helped you fight Palpatine, and I know that he’s what’s left of Han, Leia, and Luke, but…”

“I understand,” Rey says, with a slight inclination of her head.

She does. It’s not wrong if the Resistance – if the galaxy – wants to seek justice.

“Good,” Poe says, looking relieved. “We’re posting guards outside the medbay, but just in case, you’ll be on standby, right?”

Rey says, “Poe – General – if you’re worried about him hurting people again, he won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you.” Poe gives her a nod, and he picks up his datapad, back to other business. “Me and Finn have been trying to determine our next move. Our priority is capturing and eliminating any remaining First Order forces who are fleeing to the Outer Rim…”

* * *

“Jedi. You’re here.”

Rey blinks, then grins. “Zorii. Babu Frik. You’re alive. Wasn’t Kijimi destroyed--?”

“It was,” Zorii says. She’s still helmet-clad, her voice modulated and metallic. “We were able to get out in time. We got lucky.”

Babu Frik babbles something in his language.

“Thank you both for your help, but I’m sorry,” Rey says, soberly. “We brought the First Order to your doorstep.”

“Nah,” she says. “They were always there. Yeah, I – I lost most of my crew and my bantha pit of a planet. But it’s not so bad, being part of the Resistance. Blasting those murdering bastards out of the sky. I can see why Dameron likes it here. Just got to keep going.”

Rey can’t see Zorii’s face – her eyes – but she can sense the woman’s sadness. She doesn’t know what to say, how to comfort someone who just lost their home.

“Do you have plans what to do after this?” Rey asks. “Spice-running again?”

“I don’t think I should be telling you if I am,” Zorii says, snorting. “But since you asked, we’re thinking of starting up a legitimate enterprise, now that we’re acquiring contacts through the Resistance. Fulfilling bounties and taking contracts for business in the Outer Rim from the Core Worlds. Transporting goods and people.”

“That’s good to hear,” Rey says, smiling. “Good luck.”

“And you? What are your plans?”

Rey pauses.

For now, she’s promised to join First Order clean-up efforts, since she’s one of the Resistance’s best fighters.

But what follows afterwards?

She knows that she doesn’t want to leave her friends, Finn and BB-8 and Chewbacca and Poe and so many others in the Resistance, but in this changing galaxy, their paths could easily diverge. Where does that leave her?

Going home. There’s nothing left for Rey on Jakku, and she has no desire to return to the life of a loner and scavenger.

Rebuilding the New Republic. Rey knows that she’s not a politician. The Jedi of old had a reputation for being diplomats and mediators, but Rey can’t see herself making speeches or brokering alliances.

Resurrecting the Jedi Order. But could Rey really do it? Searching for Force sensitive beings – training them – serving as peacekeepers and protectors – and hoping that this time, they’ll finally get it right?

For a moment, Ben’s face flickers in her head – those dark, expressive eyes, her mouth on his – and she immediately pushes the thought aside.

 _Don’t be a fool_ , she tells herself.

“I don’t know,” Rey says, her voice soft and rueful.

Babu Frik waddles toward her and pats her ankle.

Zorii lets out a tinny noise. “Oh, Jedi. You want to swing by my ship later for a drink?”

“Kriff, yes,” Rey says, before she can stop herself.

* * *

“There are two sides of the Force.”

“Dark and Light?”

Rey shakes her head. “That’s one way to think of it, but it’s not the entire perspective. You have to back up and look at it at a wider scale.”

She and Finn are standing on moss-covered stones by a lake in the forest. It had been a long day, planning and preparing for tomorrow’s attack on a remaining First Order base, and now, evening has fallen.

Finn is attentively taking in Rey’s words, while Rey tries to look as official and knowledgeable as she can, relaying the teachings handed down to her through Luke, Leia, and Jedi books.

“There’s the Living Force,” Rey says. “Life in people, creatures, plants. It’s like a field of energy that flows through every living thing. That’s where Force abilities come in. We tap into that energy in ourselves to run fast, jump high, heal injuries, move objects, and sense others.”

She stops, and adds, “That energy can be manifested as either light or dark.”

“The Force lightning,” Finn says, then says, “Kriff. Sorry.”

“No,” Rey says. Her fingertips tingle, remembering. “You’re right.”

Gently, Finn asks, “So, what’s the other side of the Force?”

“The Unifying Force,” Rey says. She raises her hand toward the sky. “This is the more mystical one. Think of the Unifying Force like a long chain, linking everything together. Every planet, moon, and star across the galaxy. Time across the past, present, and future. Not just life, like the Living Force, but what’s beyond life and beyond death.”

“That’s very… deep,” Finn says. “Life after death. So, Leia, she’s with the Force.”

“She’s here,” Rey says, simply. “She’s in the fabric of the Force, and she’s not gone. She never will be.”

“That’s amazing,” Finn murmurs. “Makes me wonder if my parents were Force-sensitive like me, and if I could ever—"

The sentence dies in his throat.

_If I could ever meet them._

Rey recognizes the sentiment too well, and now that she knows, she wonders if she’ll ever see them again, her parents who saved her life, her parents who died for her. If through the Force, she’ll one day sense them like she senses Luke and Leia.

“Oh, Finn,” she says, feeling tears prick her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wish I had an answer for you, but the Force is strange and mysterious. I’m not a Master Jedi.”

“What the pfassk are you talking about?” Finn says, and then, sudden, his arms are around her, and she hugs him back, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “You’re the closest thing to a Master Jedi we’ve got. I don’t know if I’ll ever learn about my parents, but you – you and Poe and the Resistance – you’re my family now. It means a lot that you’re telling me about all this. Really.”

He draws back, gripping her by the shoulder with one hand, and the other hand reaching to wipe her eyes.

She sniffles, tells him, “You’re going to be a great Jedi.”

“Yeah, like you.”

“Shush,” she says, nudging against him. “Jedi are supposed to _humble_. Can’t let the praise go to my head.”

They spend the next half hour meditating and sensing the Force — or at least, trying to, because, eventually, Finn yawns, Rey laughs, and they both decide to leave for dinner.

* * *

Zorii Bliss has a magnificent ship—

—is the first thought that enters Rey’s mind when she walks up to it.

She’d asked Poe where it was during dinner, and she finds it nestled behind the Resistance’s X-wings and Y-wings.

It’s a light freighter, part of Corellian’s old YT-series. Class 2 hyperdrive. Mounted laser cannons. It looks like Zorii’s crew even hooked it up with an ion cannon, too.

The ship is emblazoned with red painted streaks on the side.

Rey knocks on the hangar door, her knuckles rapping against durasteel. “Zorii? It’s Rey. I’m here to take you up on your offer.”

The doors fly open.

Zorii waves her inside. “I was waiting for you. Didn’t think you would come. For a moment, I thought I was wrong, and you were an abstaining Jedi do-gooder after all.”

“I’m from Jakku,” Rey says. “Not exactly a pristine temple.”

She wonders, briefly, is this is a bad idea or not. But it’s not like she completely avoided the pub in Niima Outpost. When she had the credits, she would order a pint or two; overhear conversations between passing offworlders; and sometimes, she would even sell spare parts under the table, cutting Unkar Plutt out of the profits.

It was fascinating, hearing news about the galaxy outside Jakku. Traders, merchants, and criminals had some interesting tales to tell, even if inebriated and exaggerating. As a teenager, Rey was an avid listener.

Of course, she was entrenching upon Unkar’s territory. One of Unkar’s thugs had caught her once, and as punishment, he cut her food ration in half.

That had been a bad month.

Forcefully, Rey shakes the memory away.

She tells Zorii, “You’ve got a marvelous ship. A YT-2400 transport, right?”

“That she is. The _Kijimi Kreehawk._ ”

“Although the name’s a bit unfortunate now, isn’t it?” says a new voice, as Rey and Zorii enter the ship’s cabin. “Now that Kijimi’s gone.”

“This is Jieh Arin,” Zorii says. “My first mate.”

“You’re the Jedi girl,” Jieh says. He’s a Delphidian, grey-skinned and dark-eyed, wearing the same shade of red as Zorii. Babu Frik is napping against him, snoring loudly. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Rey,” she says, tipping her head toward him. “I didn’t meet you on Kijimi.”

“I was out running an errand,” he says, his eyes flicking to Zorii, “but I was able to get out on time before the planet blew. I heard you took down the emperor.”

“I did.”

“Congratulations,” he says, raising his glass toward her. “Onto the next regime, eh? I’m not the happiest playing Resistance hero right now, but Zorii insisted.”

“You sat out the Battle of Exegol,” Zorii says, frostily, or as coldly one could expect through the voice changer.

“Like I said, we can’t all be heroes. I did try to stop you, but you decided to borrow one of the Resistance Y-wings and swoop in. The dear _general_ too irresistible?”

“Shut the kark up,” Zorii says, and she snatches an unopened bottle of grog on the table. “Let’s leave Jieh here to drink alone, Rey. I’ll show you to my quarters.”

Rey, brows raised, follows. Jieh gives them a salute in parting. 

Zorii’s quarters onboard the _Kreehawk_ is small, but homey. A bunk covered with red bedsheets, an open chest full of data pads and mechanical devices – splicer tools, Rey registers.

Zorii takes off her helmet. She’s brown-haired, blue-eyed, probably around Poe’s age.

“Jieh’s an ass,” she says, without preamble. “Forget about him. He’s one of the more…cold-blooded mercenary types in my crew, but I knew him back when we were kids on the streets of Kijimi. He hated Poe when he joined the spice-running scene, but then again, I did, too.”

“Sorry – you and Poe–?” Rey says.

Zorii rolls her eyes. “I am not talking to you about that. Suffice to say, it’s over now.”

“Ah.”

Well, Zorii’s not wrong, Rey thinks. It’s none of her business.

Zorii rummages in a satchel and pulls out another bottle of grog. “Is spice liquor all right?”

“Never tried it,” Rey says, truthfully. “I’ve only drank R’iaa’s nectar and spinebarrel spirit.”

“Never heard of them. They sound like local drinks. Give this a swig.” She hands Rey the bottle.

Rey drinks. It’s sharp and fragrant as she gulps it down, but compared to Jakku alcohol – “It doesn’t taste very strong.”

“Mother of Moons.”

* * *

Rey sleeps, and she hears him again.

“You let me live.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s too easy.”

“Easy?”

“To let you die like that.”

“… Rey.”

“Ben.”

“Your mind feels off-center.”

“Perhaps a little.”

“…You’re _drunk.”_

“I’m twenty years old, Ben. I’ve been visiting the Niima Outpost pub since I was sixteen.”

“You were imagining swimming in nightblooms… riding astride a happabore through the desert… fixing up an old yacht and flying through the stars…”

“Get out of my head, go back to sleep, and heal.”

“It’s lovely. Beautiful.”

“What?”

“Your dreams.”

Abruptly, she awakens, her cheeks flaming red and warm, and she immediately blocks off their connection through the Force.

* * *

The next two weeks are a whirlwind.

Rey joins the Resistance as they target remaining First Order forces. They attack remaining bases – they converge on surviving ships. Rey ducks stormtrooper fire and pilots the _Falcon_ , friends and allies by her side.

Every morning, she stops by the medbay and puts her hand against the bacta tank. Ben seems to have taken her advice to concentrate on healing, and he doesn’t disturb her dreams any longer.

Every couple of days, she drinks with Zorii on the _Kijimi Kreehawk._ Zorii recounts her adventures – some of the more criminal details are edited for plausible deniability, but Zorii’s a wicked storyteller, telling Rey of spice runs, slicing exploits, clashes with rival crews, repulsor skiing and hover sledding on the slopes of the wintery planet.

Her Force lessons with Finn progress, little by little. Meditation sessions by the lake. Modified games of hide-and-seek, Rey twining a black scarf across Finn’s eyes and telling him to navigate through the forest, searching for her and objects that she’s hidden.

For example: She crouches behind a fallen tree, listening to the sound of the insects of Ajan Kloss. She doesn’t know the name of them – they’re nothing like the gnaw-jaws on Jakku that angrily buzz and sink their stingers into you, biting – but these ones, they shine like the stars and they sing songs like the wind through leaves. She’s so absorbed that she doesn’t sense Finn as he tackles her from behind, blindfold intact – _“Gotcha!”_ – and she yelps, nearly knocks him over with the Force, but he keeps his balance.

He takes off the scarf with a flourish and a bow.

She beams. “You’re improving.”

“I didn’t run into a single tree.”

“A record.”

“What were you distracted by, anyway?”

“The bugs,” she admits. “I’ve never seen this kind before.”

“I think they’re only starting to come out now since the weather’s getting warmer… I don’t know what they’re called. They sound real nice.”

Rey wonders if there are other insects like them on other planets, in other systems.

“Back in the First Order,” Finn says, “we weren’t allowed access to material that wasn’t pre-approved. Holovids, history books, music. But if you were lucky and someone in your squadron was a good slicer, you could hear and see and read things that wasn’t the same old boring propaganda.

“I once saw a holovid about the destroyed planet Alderaan. Where Leia was from. They were peaceful artistic types, Alderaanians. These sound like their flutes. I wish Leia was here to hear it.”

“She is,” Rey reminds him, touching the lightsaber on her belt, and feeling through the Force--

“Yeah,” Finn says, with a smile.

Together, they turn their heads towards the trees and listen.

* * *

Rey’s been putting it off, but she knows that she must make her own lightsaber.

Poe’s not pleased with her taking off at this juncture with more First Order raids left, but he knows that he can’t stop her.

She almost invites Finn, yet despite his improvements during training, he’s still hesitant about fully becoming a Jedi. He doesn’t mind the small exercises, but every time she raises the possibility of lightsaber training, he shakes his head and comes up with excuses.

She decides not to push him, at least not this time.

She prepares for her journey – gathering diagrams and texts about the lightsaber building process – and finally, relenting, she prods back through her bond with Ben.

“I’m not a holocron,” he murmurs. His ‘voice’ is sleepy and muted, but the same low-deep tone, though shaded in amusement, once she asks.

“I wanted to see if you had any advice before I left.” She’s meditating in the forest, cross-legged, eyes closed. “Just in case. You made your own lightsaber, after all.”

“It’s more of a personal journey. You’ll find your kyber crystal. I’m sure you don’t need help on the technical end.”

She’s already gathered pieces of her quarterstaff and other spare parts that can conceivably be fashioned into a lightsaber. Rose had helped her look through scraps that the Resistance has discarded – damaged tech that’s still reusable.

There is… one thing she’s worried about.

A beat, and then, he appears. Sitting across from her wearing a white tunic, black trousers. It’s only a Force projection, but for the first time since he died, she sees him awake and staring back at her.

She tips her head up and meets his gaze levelly.

“My lightsaber was initially blue,” he says, quietly. “Luke’s was green. My mother’s, blue. Your kyber crystal won’t bleed red, Sith ancestry or not, because, Rey, you’re not dark.”

And Rey is transported to that moment in front of the throne. The emperor, the shadows, the power.

She says, “I worry that it’s in me, sleeping.”

“I’m inside your head, and there’s nothing sinister underneath the surface. There’s only you.”

Sometimes she thinks she cannot bear it. He is Ben Solo; he is Kylo Ren; he is _someone_ who looks at her with infinite tenderness and infinite understanding like there’s no one else in the world. It makes her feel something tight in her chest, frustrated, burning – this boy, this man, who has wrecked devastation across the galaxy, whose red blade has clashed against her blue saber with a snarl twisting his face – and she could have so easily let him die in her arms.

She lets out a shaky laugh. “Sometimes I wish it was anyone but you.”

He looks surprised, blinks.

“This isn’t about just… that,” she says. Unspoken, she means the kiss on Exegol; she means the tension that runs through them, furious and simmering. “This is about connection. Belonging.”

Her world is not restricted to him, after all.

She has Finn – a friend who’s brave and noble and true – who met her as a mere scavenger girl and accepted and still accepts all that she is. He knows what it’s like to be lonely, to stare at the reaches and depths of the galaxy with wide eyes and an eager spirit. Like her, he can feel the Force, but it’s more than that, it always has been.

She has Poe, who is steady and duty-bound and quick-witted and charming. He makes her laugh, he’s an ace pilot, and she trusts him to watch her back just like Finn.

She has Rose, who shares her aptitude for mechanics – she has Zorii, sharp-tongued, clever, who has a high alcohol tolerance and a similar passion for adventure – she has BB-8, friendly and chittering, rolling by her side – she has Chewie, champion dejarik player, stubborn and loyal –

“What binds us except the Force, Ben?” she asks.

“There’s no such thing as ‘just the Force,’” Ben says, somber, and he’s right, it’s _everything._

They feel the Force deeply, like madness, like a fever, because it’s what makes suns rise, planets turn, seeds grow. It makes the two hearts between them beat as one, but Rey’s heart has always been hers, guarded fiercely since the day her parents left her on Jakku, while his was submerged in darkness the moment Snoke started whispering in his ear.

He says, “For whatever it’s worth, it’s important to me. The fact that you saved me, for all that I’ve done as Kylo Ren.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Rey says. It’s what Luke, Leia, and Han wanted; it’s what makes her and them different from Palpatine, Snoke, the First Order.

Ben reaches out to her, cradles her face with his hand. “I don’t know what happens next, Rey. What my fate will be after I wake up – where you decide to take the future of the Jedi – how the new republic will be formed and if it will endure. That’s all up to you and your Resistance, your friends. But I do… care for you and trust that you’ll choose the right path.”

It’s a lot to expect from the scavenger girl from Jakku, and he has that expression on his face again, like she’s hung every moon and planet in the galaxy and he’s nothing but stardust. He had looked at her like that when he tried to sacrifice himself for her on Exegol, and selfishly, foolishly, Rey is captivated, wanting, _proud._

Ben Solo looks at her like _this._

“Go build your lightsaber, Rey,” he says, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “I’ll be awake when you return.”


End file.
